Fix Me Now
by Wulf
Summary: 4 in the GLS. What's it gonna take to make my baby all right? SLASHYAOI.
1. PART ONE

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

AN/Warnings: Language and slashiness/yaoi ahead.

Genre(s): Angst, romance ,drama, AUish.

Setting: one year after the war with Andross

Song Credits: Fix Me Now (c) Garbage

Additional AN: What happens after "Not My Idea." I know it's been a long time. My bad. (Thank you, Pashy...^_^)

  
  


PART ONE  
CHAPTER ONE 

*Bury me above the clouds,

All the way from here.

Take away the things I need,

Take away my fear.*

  
  


Next day (Friday), Fox's room at the barracks, Cornerian Air Force Base

The ticking of the clock was loud, deafening in his ears; somewhere there was a faucet dripping, the gentle ping ping ping resounding in the heavy air of the room, driving him mad. Everything was too loud, too bright, it hurt to see, hurt to move, and he pulled the blankets up to his eyes again.

How long had he been lying there? Wrapped up in his cocoon of sheets, body sore, feeling split open, naked, air burning his wounds. Fox closed his eyes again, the fur around them wet and matted.

He felt like shit. Like a cheap whore. Like used up and tossed out.

He drew another shuddery breath in, tasting the sickness in his mouth, wishing that it was a bad dream, that everything was a bad dream--

But he knew he couldn't deny it.

Fox whimpered, curling into a fetal position, wrapping his arms around his body in some sort of feeble attempt at shielding himself from the world . He tugged the blankets closer, tighter, wondering briefly if he might be allowed to die of asphyxiation. But he knew he'd have to face the world sometime, get up, get dressed, act civil, happy. Sit on a hard plastic chair in a crowded room and scribble up reports for hours on end.

Fox swallowed. He wanted to cry again, but he'd done that enough already, and now that his pride had been upchucked on by Lady Fortune, and it seemed like she wasn't finished yet. 

Memories of the previous day flooded his brain, like ocean waves smacking into him, salt stinging his eyes, the force threatening to pull his feet out from under him. Falco, leaning over him, grunting, pressing into him-- and there was pain, harsh and burning, biting into him, tearing him in two, his heart breaking, exploding, and--

Fox squeezed his eyes shut.

He'd considered taking a personal day, Bill would be busy with some diplomatic whatever, but Slippy would probably worry, come over to him, bother him, find out what happened and--

And Fox simply couldn't bear it.

He stared out again at the bright world, everything harsh, glaring, stark. The ticking of the clock echoed in his brain again, and everything seemed so far away. He felt detached, numb almost, the burning pain reminding him of things he could never forget.

Slowly, Fox pushed the covers off, the rustle of bedclothes, like white noise, leaves scraping across the pavement. He groaned, whimpered, putting his feet to the floor and sitting up. He curled his tail around himself, a quirk of his since he had been a pup, a little gesture of protection almost, ears pressing against his skull. He ran his paws over his face, calming himself, collecting his scattered and fuzzy thoughts.

Control, procedure. You're a former mercenary, for hell's sake. A military pilot. Not some fucking little girl. Stop crying like a baby, and get up.

Fox sucked in a breath, letting it out in a shudder, nodding. The cool, authoritative voice in the back of his head seemed sure, but he wasn't so convinced. It was all he could do, not to break down and sob, to shut the world out and drown in misery and regret. He winced, standing up on stiff legs, his breath heavy. He stumbled towards the bathroom, stomach churning as he reached out to catch himself on the sink, trembling paws grasping the cold smooth surface. He stared into the slick white of the porcelain, everything looking too far away and then too close. Fox swallowed back bile, trying not to throw up again.

Fox hit the cold tap, allowing the freezing water to pour in his paws. He quickly washed his face, although what good that did he knew not. Unbidden, his eyes drifted upwards, to the slut in the mirror, water running in rivulets down his face. His fur was matted and greasy, looking as though he'd gotten it caught in a blender. His eyes were bloodshot and wide, glassy and faraway. Fox shuddered, closing his eyes and turning away.

He quickly stripped, stepping into the shower, turning the hot tap on, not bothering with the cold water or the curtain, feeling his skin burn, watching the steam rise. He squeezed his eyes shut, wincing, tears threatening to escape the corners of his eyes. He stood underneath the searing spray until he could stand it no more, and, turning the water off, dropped to the freezing ground and sobbed bitterly.

Goddamn you, Falco......

  
  


CHAPTER TWO

*Hid e me in a hollow sound,

Happy evermore.

Everything I had to give,

Gave out long before.*

  
  


a little later, Peace Keeper's division

Fox stared at the door, unaware, his mind very far off, blue gaze fixed upon something far beyond the glossy wood. He was already late for work, but could not force himself to move, dreading what was behind the door. A crowded and stuffy room full of people, all chatting blissfully, laughing, joking. Sharing various pieces of office gossip with friends, all normal, happy, unaware of what had transpired between he and Falco the past few weeks....

He swallowed, feeling his tail curl around his leg. Fox's ears drooped, and he licked his cracked lips, stalling.

How could he face all of his friends now? How, when now he was a barren frigid shell? A dried up husk of his former self, something used, worn, an old toy, a plaything. Like a stuffed teddy bear, missing a glass eye, ripped, unwanted now, tossed aside, like some kind of--

Fox shuddered, feeling sick all over, cold body trembling.

But what else could he do?

What, go back to bed? What would that accomplish? Lying in bed all day certainly wouldn't accomplish anything. He'd just lie there, staring at those damn white walls, crying, wondering why, why, what had he done wrong. He'd have to face them all, sometime, sometime sooner or later.

He would've rather picked later.

Fox clenched his clammy paws, pushing open the door. The room was in its usual bedlam, phones ringing, loud chatter, packed full to the brim. He'd been asking Pepper for an extension for the Peace Keeper's division, it held at least half the talent of the Cornerian Army, and even some reserve Katina troops, but he'd hadn't gotten any word yet, and Sweet Goddess someone just touched me.....

Fox sucked in a shuddery breath, quickening his pace, knowing it was just an innocent brush, after all, the room was packed, but still, he couldn't shake off the grim memories, bad flashbacks. Falco was groaning in pleasure again, and Fox was getting sick.

Goddamn it.

Fox was nearly sprinting when he finally got to his desk, careful as he sat down, feeling almost protected behind it, a wall between he and the world. He opened a desk drawer, fishing out his long-suffering bottle of white out, knowing he'd need it. The tiny white bottle was almost calming, its familiarity somehow soothing as he turned it over in his palm, thumbnail scratching lightly at the white residue peeking out from underneath the cap.

My friend, you I will never abandon, Fox thought randomly, slightly amused, suddenly feeling the need to giggle from the absurdity. He controlled himself, however, shaking the semi-hysterical laughing fit off.

Fox sighed, setting the bottle before him, shuffling his papers, feeling almost like he might survive the day. He shifted through his paperwork, yawning, wishing he was on active duty, feeling restless. The Lylat War had been won over a year ago, and he hadn't been in combat since. There was always the simulators, but they weren't they same, and Fox feared he may be getting rusty. It had been at Peppy's insistence, that he take time off. To rest and recover, to let his wounds heal. Fox had expected for stay grounded for only a few months, six at the most. But whenever he mentioned battle again, Peppy managed to talk him out of it. The old hare was not adverse to using dirty tactics, and most times they involved a goodly amount of alcohol, and Fox would often forget what he had been talking about.

Fox rubbed his forehead, staring beyond the tiny printed words in front of him, thoughts turned towards the sky. Miyu was an incredible shot, and Fay was quick; they could take care of the Space Pirates and remaining Venomese scum.

But he wished so dearly he were with them.

Not here. Not now. Anywhere but here.

Fox swallowed, reminding himself to shut the hell up and do his work like a good little boy. He tapped his pen nervously against his desk top, wondering if he had the strength or self control to make it through the entire day. He didn't want to embarrass himself anymore than he had already, but it was only eight o'clock.

Fox shuffled his papers restlessly. His desk clock ticked noisily. He wasn't going to make it.

Fox shifted uncomfortably in his chair, wincing as the burning pain shot up his spine. He felt loose all over, dirty, so dirty, he didn't come clean in the shower, and he was so, so tired, and hungry, and he wanted to go, leave, it was only eight o'clock, and-

Oh, fuck, not now......

Falco walked by, sticking out from the ground as though he were lit up by some higher force, the background grey, unimportant. He ran a wing through the messy feathers atop his head, his movements full of his usual style, his lean body graceful, beautiful.

And Fox hated him.

He sat at his desk, unaware that he had a crumpled sheet of paper clenched in his paw, the knuckles turning sickly white. His face wore no expression, even as the emotions were surging and roiling inside, like the ocean surface during the howling rage of a storm, all of it threatening to tear him asunder from the inside. A trickle of wetness rolled down his chin, and at once Fox realized that he'd bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood.

He swallowed.

The clock ticked.

Falco turned around.

It all happened too quickly and too slowly all at once, Falco turning, green eyes seeking him out, pinning him down-- and he couldn't run, he had no where to run, Falco was standing alone, looking at him, a look of unimaginable pain and shame on his face--

And he blinked, looking away. Katt stepped from the void of the grey crowd and pounced on Falco, laughing, wrapping her arms around him, settling her head against his back, purring deeply. Falco smiled, Fox forgotten, pressing his wings to Katt's paws.

Fox was able to move again, some undefinable sound ripping out of him, a squeak, a cry, something that didn't sound like him. The paper crinkled in his paw, nails digging into the desk wood. And there were no words to describe the sense of betrayal and loneliness he felt as Falco turned to kiss her on the cheek. He sucked in a choked breath, scream, he wanted to scream--

And settled for running like hell. He dashed for the double doors, pushing people out of his way, not bothering to mutter apologies, just get out of my fucking way and Fox was inclined to put a paw on his protesting stomach. He wouldn't make it. He just couldn't.

Fox hit the door running, the force bursting the door open with so much inertia that it slammed back against the wall. He didn't care, feral energy rising in him, and he felt like screaming again, the rational part of his brain telling him to calm down, that he was acting crazy--

This too, shall pass.

Fox swallowed, standing still, shoulders tense and arms at his side, paws clenched. He'd remembered his father saying that once, standing all by himself, staring into the stars. He'd thought he was alone, not noticing Fox hiding behind the bookcase as he stared out the grand bay windows, stance loose, arms behind his back.

It had been the first time that he had ever seen his father weep. And the last time he had ever seen him alive.

Fox blinked, realizing he was crying again, realizing that he had a crumpled piece of paper in his paws. He dropped it, staring at his paws, watching them trembling. If, in spite of everything, love was a small problem compared to the hate and ugliness the world possessed....

Why did it feel so big?

Fox wrapped his arms around himself, allowing the tears to come freely, knowing it didn't matter much anymore. He walked briskly down the hall, towards his room, forgetting all pretenses of the day, wanting nothing more than to hide himself among the shadows of his quarters. He was nearly home free when the watery outline of Fay came into view, and judging by the way she was running up to him, she'd seen him crying.

Fox swallowed another choked cry, standing still, allowing Fay to come to him.

What did it matter, anyway? She'd find out soon enough. Find out that he was nothing more than a slut, a used piece of trash. If this was what love was like, then fuck it, he'd had enough. To think that is had meant so much to him and yet nothing to Falco....

He sobbed outright, running the back of his paw over his eyes, trying to see as Fay stopped before him.

"Oh, Fox," Fay breathed, reaching up to touch his face. "What happened?"

Fox fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around Fay and, burying his head in her warm stomach as he wept in shame and fear.


	2. PART TWO

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

AN: Due to some personal issues, I've been a bit unwilling to continue with the GLS for awhile. (Sorry for the wait, Atrox!) Also, I'm starting to lose my touch with these fics, so rather than risk drawing out something low quality, there will be few installments left.

  
  
  
  


PART TWO  
CHAPTER THREE

*Fix me now,

I wish you would.

Bring me back to life.

Kiss me blind, somebody should.

From hollow into light.* 

  
  


Cornerian Air Force Base, Fox's barracks

Fox was laying on side, curled in the fetal position, tail entwined over his legs. His tears had dried long ago, and the numbness had fallen over him once more. The world was once again stark and screaming white and Fox felt his stomach turn in pain.

Fay was there, somewhere outside his line of vision, fingers stroking his fur gently, calming, soothing. She was the only one he felt safe near, being wonderfully cute with a sweet disposition. She'd accepted him without question the very first night, and had been supportive of him since, despite what it must've done to her. Fox squeezed his eyes shut, feeling much too shitty to cry again.

He shifted his weight, nuzzling close to Fay, borrowing her strength for the time being. He was being a pussy, not owning up to his feelings, but god damn, all he felt like doing right then was crying, or maybe tossing himself down a well. Suicide wasn't looking too bad anymore.

A whimper crawled its way out of his throat, and Fox buried his face in Fay's lap. She swallowed, brushing red strands away from Fox's face, running her fingers through them. He'd told her, of course, what had transpired, leaving out a few dirty details, telling her just enough so she understood. 

"Fay...." Fox started, not sure what to say or where to begin. She stood before him, like a little girl playing dress up, but she was more than that, a stronger person than he could ever hope to be. He'd hurt her deeply, played with her emotions and her heart, and she was still willing to help him. He reached out, tugging lightly on one soft ear, rubbing the fine white hairs between his fingers.

"Fay...." he repeated, when nothing came to mind. He buried his face in her stomach, trying not to cry, trying not to scream. Fay had been quiet since this morning, and Fox had been too wrecked to ask why.

And why shouldn't she, hm? You grabbed her like some impulse item and then dumped her the same night for a man. You insulted her and left her when she needed you. Then later you come running to her like some frightened little girl and you expect her to care? To waste time trying to help you?

Fox let out a hiss of pain, knowing the words were true.

There's no fucking point anymore.....

"Does he make you happy?" Fay suddenly questioned, her expression unreadable, furry ears covering her face, detaching her from the situation. Fox jumped slightly, not expecting anything from her. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide his face in the folds of her sheets.

"Fox...." Fay whispered, mildly scolding him. 

Fox could only smile, although the pain clouding his features made it seem more like he was wincing. "Yes."

"Is it worth it to you, to work through this? Will you invest your time and your heart into it?"

Fox swallowed, both already knowing what hid answer was. Fox was a bit of a romantic, airy and often caught up in his own little fantasies. Why else would he have been a mercenary, if not for fame and riches and life happily ever after? He sighed, burying his head against Fay's stomach.

"Yes, Fay. He.....means a lot...."

"Then let me tell you a little story," Fay started, dipping her head again, fluffy ears covering her face. Fox turned, eyebrows coming together questioningly. There was something different about her voice, and Fox was unable to read her face. 

"Once upon a time, there was a little princess. She was a happy little girl; she had just found her handsome prince, and they were in love. Late at night, he would sneak into her room, and do things to her that she didn't like. But it was okay, because they were in love, and she trusted him, because he meant a lot to her."

Fay stopped, and Fox was quiet. He swallowed, a storm building up in him, a burning feeling that pulled his muscles taunt. How could she see that? Is that what she thought of their relationship? That Falco was just using him like that? How could she.....

How can she think I'm so fucking blind? How can she think that Falco is so fucking heartless? It's not....not like that!

The rage blinded Fox, and with a growl, he shoved Fay away, standing up, running a paw across his face to wipe away the remnants of his tears.

"Not like that," was all he could choke out, feeling betrayed and angry. "You.... your wrong, Fay."

"Okay," Fay whispered, her voice wobbling like a vase atop an unstable mount. Fox left, and she could only smile bitterly at his shadow.

  
  
  
  


CHAPTER FOUR

*Crashing, silent, broken down.

Falling into night.

Who gave up, and who gave in?

I'll go without a fight.*

  
  


meanwhile, Peace Keeper's weapons cache

Falco blinked, stepping into the damp basement-like weapons cache, rusty chain link door squealing shut behind him. It was hotter in there than he'd expected, and his palms were instantly sweaty. Despite the meager aggravations, he blew out a sigh of relief upon spying Bill in the back, fiddling with a Remington.

Just who I need to see.

He'd been a wreck since the incident, unable to sleep or think, Katt's momentary appearance that morning a welcome distraction. At first he wanted to be numb again, to forget it hadn't happened, feeling disgusted and angry at himself for it. He wanted to make it right, so badly to make it right, and the only words he could remember were "I'm sorry."

Falco swallowed, feeling the bile rise in his throat again. He hadn't eaten, either.

Seeing Fox that morning had made the situation worse; he hadn't been ready to face him and had tried to ignore the pain, and as a result had caused him to suffer further. Fox had ran off, and Falco had not the courage to follow him. He ran a wing through the feathers atop his head, wiping sweaty palms off on his pants. Bill had yet to notice him, and for a moment, running away like a Nancy boy sounded like a good plan. Knowing that Fox would still be in pain kept him there. Bill was the only one he'd thought of to talk to. Since he and Fox had been friends since puphood, Bill knew the most about him, and hopefully knew what to do.

Falco exhaled sharply, swallowing his embarrassment, hoping Bill wasn't the homophobic type.

"Bill?"

The mixed breed turned around, trademark shades on. An unsure smile surfaced on Bill's face, questioningly. He set the shotgun down on a dull counter, a box of shells and dirty rag next to it. He wiped his paws off on his already messy jumpsuit, standing up.

"S'up Lombardi? Why aren't you out flying the friendly skies?"

Bill's light-hearted humor was lost to the tension, and the dog suddenly realized something was explicitly wrong when Falco's expression stayed grim, his eyes trained to the floor. Although Bill didn't know the guy very well, he'd never seen Falco with a feather out of place, much less this upset. Bill's nose twitched, sensitive olfactory hairs picking up just how serious the situation really was.

"Okay, what's wrong? You're starting to scare me, here."

Trying not to choke, Falco relayed what had happened, minus the personal details. When he was finished, he found interest with his boots once again, fingers clutching at the zipper of his flight-issue jumpsuit in nervous anticipation. He dared to look up, and abruptly Bill's fist was flying at his face, stinging pain suddenly alighting upon Falco's face as he stumbled back, colliding with the mesh enclosure as his wings reflectively reached up to cup his beak. Blood trickled from his nostrils, and he knew that he deserved it.

"I'm sorry."

Bill's fur raised, and he growled, baring sharp teeth. "You're sorry? You're fucking sorry? What the hell good is that going to do? You just left him the fuck alone after something like that and you think that saying you're sorry is gonna make everything all better again?"

The dog dropped his arms to his sides, his voice gone shrill, resounding in Falco's ears. Bill wiped his palms off on his pants, swearing again, running a paw through the fur atop his head. He stared at Falco through his shades, who was miserably wiping his bloody nose off on one wing, the red streaking across blue feathers. Exhaling sharply, Bill grabbed the rag, handing it to Falco, who accepted it, pressing the dirty cloth to his beak. An awkward silence stood between them, Bill not wanting to accept the truth, Falco needing it to be fixed. The falcon leant listlessly against the mesh cage, looking so defenseless and pathetic it almost unnerved Bill. Falco somehow reminded him of some love-sick teenager who'd just knocked up his girlfriend, and it would've been funny, had it not involved his best friend.

Lombardi's a prick. A hard-ass. Why's he being such a pussy? Why do I have to get dragged into this?

Bill sighed.

Why me, huh? Why?

"Y'see here," he hesitated, trying to begin again, to calm himself down. Giving Falco sex advice that included nailing his best friend wasn't something he'd ever imagined. He'd barely talked to the guy before, Falco giving him the impression that he much rather be left the hell alone, which was alright with Bill, since he'd never really liked him. He could respect him though; the guy was an incredible pilot and radiated a calm, stoic era, the kind of standoffish demeanor that was best left undisturbed. Bill had often wished he could be like that, calm and smooth and not the comic relief. He coughed, trying again.

"Fox is the sensitive type. I know he doesn't look it, and is a harsh fucker in battle, but he is. I've know him since we were just novices. He's seen both of his parents murdered, and lived through one hell of a war. He's got Venom scum and an assload of space pirates trying to kill him on an almost daily basis, and has just come to the conclusion that he's once again a deviant of society. He finally found someone he trusts and loves, and is once again fucked royally by life."

Falco noticeably winced, and Bill was momentarily regretful, however his protective urge kicked in once more, and he spoke again, without reserve. "Look, Lombardi, I've seen Fox get hurt enough. It's probably none of my business, so you'd either better fix it or fucking well stay the hell way from him. Understand?"

Falco swallowed heavily, nodding, still nursing his beak. Bill started to walk away, panic rising in him, a feeling he didn't quite understand. Falco still wasn't sure what to do about Fox, and Bill was the first one who popped in his mind, since Katt wouldn't know what to do...

Without Bill's advice, what could he do? Trying to get him to stay, Falco tried idle conversation, which was one of the things he sucked worst at.

"So, uh, how did it go with the um, Spaceship Magestrate?"

Bill stiffened, cursing and mumbling something under his breath as he walked off, leaving Falco confused.

  
  


later, downtown Corneria City, Celes Square

Fox shuffled along, chin digging into his chest as he passed the crowds, trying to remain inconspicuous. His mind was still reeling from what Fay said, wondering how she could've conceived of such a thing. She had said nothing the first night accepting both he and Falco. How could she turn on them so quickly?

How could she be that heartless?

Fox sighed, suddenly realizing he had wandered into the middle of the park. Standing before him was a large stone sculpture with a fountain and tiny flower garden surrounding it. The charming grin, fluffy tail, jacket, even the sunglasses were there. Fox stared up into the face of his father, so real it must have been his body encased in stone.

Father, what am I to do?

Fox keep staring, but the statue did not answer.


	3. PART THREE

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

AN: ^ ^;;; I really don't mean to take so long, and I don't do it to be mean, or rude. It's just taken me a lot longer to write these last few parts than expected. I've had a busy time this summer, when I expected to get a lot accomplished, so I'm just as frustrated as you. Please forgive me.

  
  


PART THREE  
CHAPTER FIVE

*Cut me down or cut me dead;

Cut me in or out.

Kiss me blind, time after time.

Take away my doubt.*

  
  


the following day, Cornerian Air Force Base, Mess Hall

Fox was too busy playing with his soup to notice Miyu's presence. The lynx scratched the back of his head, unsure of what to say or do. Fay had told him that Fox wasn't feeling well, that he needed cheering up. Staring down at a dismal Fox who looked as though he were ready to burst into tears gave Miyu the idea that maybe "Fox wasn't feeling okay" was an understatement.

Miyu finally made a move to sit, choosing the seat across from Fox. He suppressed an embarrassed flush, feeling Fox's eyes on him as he grabbed his fork and stabbed at his salad, cramming it into his mouth, trying to buy some time while he thought of something intelligent to say. Fox looked wrung-out, like he either hadn't slept in weeks or was flying on a bad LSD trip, and he was fidgety, wincing and shifting around in his chair.

Here goes nothing, Miyu thought, clearing his throat, blushing again when Fox's bloodshot eyes drifted upwards towards his face again, the contemp clearly written in their depths. "Eerm, nice weather we're having, ne?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm stuck behind a desk all day," came Fox's sullen, monotone reply. Miyu flushed again, shoveling caesar salad into his jaws at rapid speed, knowing full well that Fox was pissed of as hell at his new career arrangements. Miyu hadn't spoken that often with Fox before he'd joined the team, and even less now. The only reason he'd gotten the job was because of his impeccable aim, and because he was friends with Fay, who was friends with Fox. But any fool could tell that Fox was slightly resentful of the two; while he was running through mounds of paperwork they were running through the stars.

Miyu coughed.

"Football's been heating up, ne? Did you see last night's game?"

"I don't watch football," Fox spat, twirling his spoon around in his soup. Miyu noticed the fur on the back of Fox's neck was bristled, and a trickle of sweat ran down the lynx' forehead. He'd quickly gotten the point that Fox wanted to be left the hell alone, but it was a favor to Fay, and he had promised....

O~okay... This is going well.... Maybe he'll just snap and eat me next time....

Miyu sighed, mind struggling to come up with decent conversation material.

Women, right? All men like women.

"Did you see Katt in her new skirt? She's a cutie, ne? Great set of legs," Miyu said, smiling dreamily, remembering seeing Katt earlier that morning, hips swaying gently and elegantly, long legs stretching high up into her small, pleated lavender skirt. He'd said something charming and she'd giggled. Miyu happily sighed at the memory, absently poking his fork at his lettuce again.

"It's a shame she's got the hots for Falco Lombardi," Miyu muttered, the stabbing of his fork becoming more deliberate. "That guy is such a fucking prick, man."

There was an ominous bark from Fox's side of the table, and Miyu swallowed, his paw stilling. He stared into the mangled lettuce leaves and semi-squashed tomatoes, unwilling to look up. Maybe they were closer friends than he had originally thought?

Shit fuck fuck fuck, damage control, now!

Miyu's prayers answered, Fay walked up then, holding a tray in her paws, smiling brightly. She'd sent Miyu over to try and talk with Fox, maybe break the ice. It had hurt yesterday, when she had tried to help and he'd told her to piss off. She had tried to make him see the truth, but he'd just walked away, and she'd been left alone with memories that she'd nearly drowned in.

But if she could just make him understand.....

"You boys having a lovely talk?" she asked, sitting down beside Miyu, her smile fading when she noticed Fox's expression; seething as he stared across the table at Miyu, who looked ready to pee his pants or start crying for his mother. Fay's forehead creased, worry setting in.

"Fox...Miyu...." Fay trailed off, pressing her ears against her head. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea. "Are you two okay?"

"What the fuck would you know?" Fox suddenly growled, a hint of a sob underneath, as he snatched up his tray with a terrific rattle that startled both Miyu and Fay. Fay rose up, reaching out a paw, opening her mouth to say something. Fox snarled, batting her paw away, walking elsewhere briskly.

Miyu sighed, watching Fox stomp off. He sat down, shrugging, wondering what the hell he said wrong. He scratched his head, turning to Fay, who smiled up at him sympathetically, fluffy ears flopping slightly when she cocked her head to the side.

"Good thing I got you, kiddo," Miyu said, flashing a charming grin, ruffling the soft fur atop Fay's head. "You're like a little sister."

Fay blinked, hiding her wince behind a smile that never reached her eyes.

  
  


moments later, Fox's room at the barracks

Fox stumbled into his room, biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He slammed the door shut, locking it, trying to blow off a little steam. The feverish rage that had consumed him moments ago was nearly gone, leaving only embers of hatred behind. He'd been so irritable lately, wracked with emotional guilt and left tired when sleep did not come easily. Now, the slightest provocation seemed to cause him to spontaneously combust.

Fox sucked in a breath, running a trembling paw over his shaggy forehead. He sat down on his bed, tail curling up into his lap. He stroked his fingers along the fur listlessly, eyes staring beyond the ratty carpet as his brain spun among things he tried to understand.

Love was supposed to be beautiful. It was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be wonderful, and happy, and exhilarating. No. Painful, ugly, dumb as a post. That was love.

So why don't you just go talk to him? Hm? Just tell him.....it's over. That's all you can do. Fay was right. As he's done was take things from you for his own benefit. You've let him. Maybe this relationship thing wasn't such a good idea in the first place. 

Fox's lip quivered slightly, and he squeezed his eyes shut, raising his head up. He was giving up. That was the only thing he could do. Fox's eyes began to sting, and he buried his head into his pillow.

"Shit," he muttered, his voice catching.

  
  
  
  


CHAPTER SIX

*Fix me now,

I wish you would.

Bring me back to life.

Kiss me blind, somebody should.

From hollow into light.*

  
  


evening, Falco and Katt's trailer

Falco had spent the entire day brooding, flipping through an endless array of infomercials and soap operas, one wing wrapped around the television clicker, the other draped in a bag of greasy potato chips. The only times he'd moved were to scratch himself or to get up to pee, content to wallow in his depression and masculine body odors while watching the almighty tube.

He sighed, closing his eyes and listening to the light sprinkling outside grow into a heavy downpour. It had been muggy for the past several days; the rain would be a nice treat. For a moment, Falco considered the possibility of stepping outside under the pretenses of running around like a maniac in the rain, but he rested his head on his wing instead, settling for just feeling sorry for himself and staring at the TV.

He'd felt so dead lately, so unlike himself. His confidence had been shot to hell over the past few days, running away from him in red rivulets that had trickled from Fox who had screamed in pain and despair when he had moaned in pleasure. Falco was used to being detached from the world; cool, confident, cocky. Fox had the uncanny ability to get underneath his skin, and that had always unnerved Falco. He'd never gotten along with people, and he'd spent years careful constructing an airtight shell that Fox had been able to get into in a matter of minutes. Telling him to screw off was Falco's way of dealing with it.

Falco grunted, turning the television off and downing the rest of his beer, grimacing at the bitter taste. He hated beer, and could only stand to drink it during times when he really, really needed to get drunk. He decided to count this little crisis as one of those times.

He'd spent so much time thinking about the days before, the events leading up to one painful, scary moment. Thinking about the things he could have done to prevent it; there were so many things......

Falco crossed his wings, hunching over, shuffling down the hallway towards his room, sick of staring at the TV suddenly. He was getting restless, feeling edgy. He was slightly buzzed, a warm feeling settling over him, his stomach pulling in knots. Liquor always made him sick to his stomach. Falco groaned, running a wing over his forehead, momentarily pushing feathers out of his eyes before they fell back. 

Falco breathed in a shaky sigh, stepping into his room surveying the chamber, memories washing over him like some rank stench. He threw himself down onto his bed, the sheets still vaguely smelling of Fox, and suddenly it was hard to swallow. He covered his face with his wings, peeking up at the semidarkness of the ceiling through blue feathers. He wasn't really thinking of anything, a voice in the back of his mind quietly berating him while his mind stood still, the noise of the rain surrounding him. Falco pulled his wings away, staring through the darkness at a poster on the wall.

The fox was still there, looking below, arms raised to the sky and a God that did not listen. His ratty wing was listless, broken and left unfunctional. The handcuffs dangled from bleeding wrists, silver fur dripping. It seemed so realistic, so tormented, like a mockery of the present situation. Falco growled, snapping, snatching at the poster, ripping it from one top corner across to the bottom, crumpling the glossy paper into a tiny wrinkled wad. He seethed, dropping the crumpled mass, pressing one wing against the wall, leaning heavily onto it. He ran his free wing through the feathers atop his head, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched against a sob that threatened to leak out.

Falco stood alone for several minutes, choking miserably. A cold shudder ran throughout his body, his heavy breathing accompanying the sound of heavy rainfall outside.

You're a bastard, Lombardi.

A small, undignified sob escaped Falco, who immediately covered his face in disgust. 

Through the darkness, there was the unmistakable sound of knocking coming from the front door. Falco leaned up of the wall, blowing out a quivering breath, straightening out his loose, rumpled shirt. Must be Katt. Probably forgot her keys again, Falco idly thought, sauntering down the hallway towards the door. He sniffed, wiping his shirt sleeve over his moist eyes, and opened the door, a wave of shame and surprise running over him when recognition set in and he realized that it was not Katt.

"Can we talk?" Fox asked, shivering from rain and apprehension.


End file.
